


#ShootYourShot2k16

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: 30 x 31 Writing Challenge, Alternate Universe - Carnival, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 06:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11708970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: alternate canonsays that after Micah got expelled, Charley forced him to get a summer job. Now he works the basketball game at the St. Jo county fair when Keke comes up to play.





	#ShootYourShot2k16

**Author's Note:**

> **written for** day 29 of 30 x 31 writing challenge; **prompt:** theme park/carnival AU
> 
> (yes, I do want to actually finish the challenge, even if it's like six months later)

 

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Micah likes to say that he’s a private person now. He’s kind of reserved, mostly internal, and when he does share stuff, it’s because he figures that somebody else would really get a kick out of it. His instagram’s public, but he only has his snap story viewable to a few of his friends, and usually nobody cares whether or not they can see everything he’s doing and posting. But his aunt Nova, apparently, who is deeply offended that his uncle Ralph Angel can see Micah’s story and she can’t.

“How come I can’t see your story?” Nova leans onto the wood separating Micah’s basketball booth from the rest of the fairgrounds. Her eyes bore straight on into him even when she’s supposedly not grilling him. “I mean, who am I gonna tell?”

“Um, my mom.” He’s heard them gossiping and whispering now that they’re on good terms. Last thing he needs is her telling his mom something he doesn’t want her to know.

“What’chu doing you don’t want her to see? You got a life now?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, between summer classes and working at the fair, I’ve got plenty of time.” He literally has to do Econ homework under the booth during slow hours, but okay. Nova keeps staring through him though so he sighs. “I don’t know. It’s just weird to have all of you able to see my story. I made the other one!”

“Yeah, the _Trapped in NOLA_  one. That’s a little hurtful, you know?” Her eyes ease up, and her hand goes out to him. "You’re not trapped, Micah. You’re home.”

Home should be voluntary, not a punishment for his ex-girlfriend getting him expelled. He and Stella weren’t anywhere near the level that everyone thinks they were, and now he has to spend his whole summer working in Louisiana, melting and sweating and dealing with an awful amount of humidity with no good reason behind it. So sue him if he doesn’t want his mom to see him complaining about how trash her punishment is.

“If you wanna see my story so bad, then go on IG. We can post a pic together right now.” He tugs his phone out from under the booth and shortcuts his way over to the camera. He hoists it up, and Nova wastes no time slipping up into the selfie. His stupid St. Jo’s County Fair staff shirt’s visible and so’s the game so he types in a _#shootyourshot_  caption before posting it to his IG story.

“Happy?"

She taps his lips with a solid ass finger and a glare to match. “Use that tone on me again, and you’re walking back at the end of your shift.”

“Mom would kill you,” he says.

“I’m older than she is.” Nova flexes. “Stronger too.” But she smiles at him anyway. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want you getting in trouble for talking your whole shift. See you at six?”

He nods. It’s not like he has anywhere else to go. The fair’s got a few food booths, like three mini-game areas, and one stage that’s used by weird local bands and dance teams that don’t dance so much as strike poses. Drill teams, or step teams, or whatever. He watched a performance the other day, but all of those girls looked at him like they were just dying to get him on their timelines. How the mighty have fallen and all that.

Nova’s not gone more than five minutes before he hears it. Some old school R&B blasting while one of the dancers dances her way down the games aisle. No lie, _I Wanna Be Down_  starts up from the little bluetooth speaker in her hands. It’s the captain, this nice dark skin girl with hair as straight as his mom’s and eyes that tell him she’s as done with everyone else as he is with this job. And he shouldn’t stare, but she glides through the aisle, like she knows exactly who she is and exactly what she wants out of the world. So he watches her with one of those stupid deflated basketballs gripped in his hands.

She stops at his booth. He might forget how to swallow. Might nod for no reason and try to smile.

“Uh, did you want to play?” he asks.

“That’s usually what people do when they walk up to a booth, right?” She sets the speaker down as a verse kicks in. He watches her read the sign — it’s three dollars for three shots, five dollars for six, and for ten dollars, she can just go ahead and take him for everything he’s worth. She reaches down her shirt and pulls out a five dollar bill. It shouldn’t be weird; he’s seen girls do it before, but she doesn’t even avert her gaze when she reaches in her bra for it. He’s probably reading too much into things. She’s not, she couldn’t be here for him.

He takes the money. Launches into the whole explanation. “Alright, you get six shots. Make three for a small toy. Trade three small toys for one big toy.”

She nods over his explanation. “Yeah, I get it. Shoot your shot.” She grabs the ball out his hands while his jaw basically drops onto the booth. And either her eyes are twinkling, or he’s malfunctioning.

“Y-yeah.”

She shoots really well, by the way. Sinks a basket like it’s actually not a rigged fair game. He scrambles to get the ball for her, and she sinks it again. And again.

“You’re really good at this,” he tells her.

“I play every year. It’s kind of a summer tradition.” She sets up her next shot. “I’m no Gladiator, but I can play a little.”

He barely swallows his groan. “So you do know who I am.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course I know who you are.” She shoots and sinks it again. “But don’t take it the wrong way. All my girls follow you on IG. They said, no way Micah West’s working here for fun. So they want to know, what’d you do?”

“What’d I do?” His neck strains when he repeats the question, like he’s simultaneously acknowledging and running from the words at the same time. Not like he can necessarily get far from them you know, they’re coming out of him, they’re addressed to him. It’s just… he doubts this cute girl even really cares that much. “So you can go tell everybody?”

She squares her hips and fully faces him. “I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.”

He doesn’t. He goes and gets the ball back for her. Holds it out even when she doesn’t reach for it. “Look, I’m just trying to blend in, have a chill Louisiana summer.”

“Says you.”

His chest puffs out a bit. “Yeah, says me.” She barely knows him, but she’s calling him a liar. He sets the ball on the booth. “I don’t _have_  to tell you anything about me. Everybody thinks they’re entitled to everything just because we follow each other on social media, but my life is still mine.”

“Whoa.” Her hands fly up. “Easy. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Just ‘cause she didn’t mean anything doesn’t mean nothing happened. But he’s working, and she’s a paying customer, so “Whatever. You’ve still got two shots.” He steps back so he can grab the ball once she throws it. He can stand in the back of the booth until she’s done, then go about his life once she’s done bugging him for information. It was probably too much to hope that she’d want something real from him, you know?

She scoops up the ball. “I do follow you, but it’s not because you think you’re famous. It’s ‘cause everybody knows everybody down here.” She kneads it between her hands. “My step-dad Boogie’s always hanging out with your uncle, Hollywood. And your other uncle Ralph Angel. Miss Violet bakes a pie for the graduation raffle every year, so, I know all about your family out here. And I also know that you don’t just post pictures of your family because you love them so much. You don’t know anybody down here. I could fix that.”

He tells himself not to move. “What, with your girls?” He doesn’t need a new posse.

She catches his eye. “With me. But hey, if you’re not down, that’s fine. Life’s short, figured I’d say something.” She shoots again. It hits the backboard but still goes in. “One more shot.”

She says it like it’s a warning, or a promise, just for him. Like she’s not the one putting herself on the line right now. Like he’s the one about to risk it all. Though, isn’t he the one with the most to lose? He doesn’t have any friends at this summer program, and his family’s great, but his best friend right now is his aunt. Why not give this girl a chance? Why not open up a bit?

He scoops up the ball, tries swaying his way back over. “I figured you already shot yours.” The second he says it, it sounds dumb. And she barely stops herself from laughing in his face. But she does.

She says, “Your turn then.”

He grins, holds the hand that doesn’t have a basketball in it out to her. “Micah.”

She takes it and shakes it. “Keke. Or **@keketwirl** , since you know you wanna add me.”

He rolls his eyes, but he picks his phone up once they let go. Opens up IG to find her page. Notices instead that **@novab** has a new post on her story. He clicks it only to see himself and Keke not more than two minutes ago. He hits the message bar so fast. Types, _This is why you can’t follow me. You’re such a creep!_

Keke laughs though. “Who do you think gave me the five dollars?"

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End file.
